31 Days of Madness
by GaolerWench
Summary: Thirty-one days of humor, embarassment, and a nice sprinkling of gone-awry romance for our dear countries. One day, Italy wants a baby, then Greece's cat goes insane... Who knows what will happen next! Hints of yaoi.
1. Russia's Supposed Proposal

**Day 1**

For once in his long life, Russia was afraid. This fear pulsed inside him as he sprinted in the opposite direction of the only person that could shake his very core. _Belarus._

His mind whirled as shouts of "Russia!" and "Come to me!" echoed throughout the clearing.

_Why is she doing this? _He asked himself. _Is it because of the vodka? No, she drinks also. Maybe it is her constant drinking that-_

His train of thought was derailed by a rabid cry of "America told me about the question you have for me! Stop running and let me tell you my answer!"

"A question, da?" he mumbled. "What- nyet. Nyet, nyet, nyet, nyet." He did _not _tell Belarus _that.  
><em>

"I curse you, America, and all children you will ever produce for telling Belarus I was going to propose!"

* * *

><p>Thousands of miles away, America sneezed.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yay for the story! This isn't new; it has been up before, but I took it down for editing. There's a poll on my profile for the next featured country!<strong>


	2. In Which Italy Wants a Baby

**Day 2**

"Hey, Germany?" Italy remarked, glancing up from his omnipresent plate of pasta.

"What do you want?"

"I have to ask you a question."

"Once again: what do you want?" Germany growled out through clenched teeth.

"Um… where do babies come from?" A hopeful look graced his face, lightening his expression. This look quickly fled at Germany's incessant need to smack his head against the table.

_Gott, why me?_ Oh, no, high and proud countries like Germany _never _stoop to whining. Of course not. Taking in a deep breath, Germany steeled himself for what was to come.

"Well, Italy, when two people love each other very much-"

"They eat pasta together! Right, Germany? Just like in that movie where those pretty dogs sat down and confessed their love for each other over pasta!~"

"Wait, Italy-" He was interrupted quite viciously by the normally mild tempered Italian.

"Germany, can we have a baby?" The innocent question brought a fiery blush to Germany's face. "Why are you blushing? I love you, you love me, and we both love pasta! So, we can have a baby!"

As Italy skipped off, Germany sat, contemplating just _how_ they became partners.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Translations:<strong>

**Gott- God (German)**


	3. The Swine Flu

**Day 3**

America was in a bad way. He lay immobile, his form shaking slightly from the fever. You want to know what is wrong with our 'hero', do you? Well… as it turns out, it _is _possible for the personifications of countries to become sick with their land. And it so happens that America had come down with the swine flu.

So there America lay, with not the strength to move, let alone go to the phone to call another country for help. Realizing the futility of trying to move, he resigned himself to a day (perhaps more- _perish the thought!_) of laziness. It wasn't much of a change from his regular schedule, really.

* * *

><p><strong>A Week Post-sickness<strong>

_Let's see that stupid flu try to stop me now! I'm a Hero and that meanie swine flu should'a known better than t' mess with me!_ America crowed/thought jubilantly.

The great country was on his way to a recently called World Conference. He gathered his things, steeled himself, and boarded the plane, all the way surreptitiously wiping all the surfaces he would touch down with wipes.

As the plane touched down, America noticed quite a few familiar faces surrounding the platform. Wait-_ is that France? And England? C'mon, I got the whole welcoming party!_

He carefully disembarked, looking cautiously around, as the previously mentioned countries tended to go a little…crazy when 'round each other. He was caught off guard, still, by France and a cry of, "Mon ami! You made it! We thought you had died!"

"No, France…I'm not dead. Now get off of me! Have you even thought about how many germs the average French person has on their hands?"

France was taken aback. His expression flitted from confused, to angry, to understanding, and then to smug, all in a few milliseconds.

"Oh la la, l'Amerique! Germs, you say? Is the _mighty_ country America afraid of the germs?"

England snorted, then a devious thought crossed his mind. _Maybe if I…_

He dashed towards America, catching him in a bear hug. With a sly glance at the Frenchman, he drew his face close to America's... and dragged his tongue across America's cheek. He released him, stepped back, and admired the chaos he had caused.

The Revolution had nothing on this.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Translations!<strong>

**Oh la la- the equivalent of "wow" or "seriously?"**

**L'Amerique- America**


	4. The Piece of Awesomeness

**Day 4- Part _Ein_**

Austria's hand came down on the piano with a bang. His brow creased in thought as he wondered at the strange sounds coming from his instrument; again and again his fingers danced over the ivories, yet instead of the normal tinkling sound, strange muffled thumps were made. His first thought was to check the hammers, but none were out of place; all came down soundly.

Passing off this strange occurrence as a coincidence, he continued playing. He never noticed England chuckling in the background, or the inchoate Flying Mint Bunny dampening the strings.

* * *

><p><strong>Day 4- Part <em>Zwei<em>**

Austria was once again befuddled. This music- _could it even be called that?-_ was baffling even his musically talented brain. It seemed that the only way to make merry with this piece was to be born with nine arms. Unfortunately for Austria's musical career, he was no such mutant.

"Austria, what are you doing?" Prussia's voice rumbled through the corridor.

"None of your business!" Austria growled. He continued struggling to achieve perfection with the music.

Prussia's head popped in the door. "Let me see that. Hmm…just as confusing as always." _Now I'll take this perfect opportunity to destroy Austria's piano! He is always on the infernal instrument tinkering away! It must __**end**__!_

Prussia shoved Austria off the bench, quickly taking his place. He began to bang; his goal was to slam so hard on the keys that the strings broke.

Austria gazed up at him from his place on the ground with a dumbfounded expression. "You just played that piece perfectly…."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yeah, Prussia's awesome. ...Did you know that some people in the US think that the official language of Austria is Austrian? I find that sadly hilarious.<strong>

**Translations: **

**Ein- one (German)**

**Zwei- two (German)**


	5. Canada and the Fairies

**Day 5**

No one knew that Canada was the only one of England's former colonies that could see the fairies.

"Hello, Thunder!" Canada called to a seemingly invisible person/ gender-neutral chibi thing. He, instead of going by England's silly naming rituals (ex: _Random Verb+__**Fruit/Plant+**__**Animal**_), had the audacity to actually use a relatively awesome name. _It's not like anyone will notice me anyway._

Little did he know that England, having chosen this unfortunate moment to actually take notice of Canada, was watching his every move with an expression of high disbelief. Turning to a passing America, he asked, "Canada can see my fairies! I knew I raised one of you correctly!" He hummed in approval, then hesitated. "...Did you put alcohol in my tea?"

"Who's Canada?" Queried America confusedly.

"I…don't know." England was baffled. He knew he was missing something important, something that could lead to a breakthrough in his social life. But, for the life of him, he just couldn't remember.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: No chances for me to show off my awesome foreign-language skills.<strong>


	6. Don't Mess With the Food of the British

**Day 6**

Quite a picture could be seen within England's place. The afore-mentioned country stood stock-still as he attempted to rationalize what was going on around him. It seemed as if France had snuck into his house and... oh, it was too horrible to mention! H-he restocked his pantry!

All of England's precious scones were gone, as were his tea leaves. He gazed about in disbelief, each sight of the devastation his kitchen suffered making him internally curl up and whimper.

France had always bemoaned the fact that England's food was terrible (_It most certainly is not!), _but this time he had gone too far. This meant _war!_

* * *

><p>England stormed into the next World Conference, lividly glaring at anyone who even remotely resembled France. He was sullen throughout the meeting, knowing he was unable to declare war while on neutral ground. As the World Conference ended, the Magical Flying Do-it-Yourself Launchable England™ went on a rampage.<p>

He threw himself at France, simultaneously pulling his hair and tackling him to the ground. "France! You had better have a good reason for _stealing _my wonderful food!"

In the background, Germany scoffed. "Heh, wonderful…" He mumbled.

France struggled to breath past England's restricting arm. "_l'__Angleterre_… I did not know you would react so harshly_. Je suis d__é__sole_. I will fix it, I promise!"

Of course, England didn't notice the devious smirk France had donned.

* * *

><p>Upon England's return home, he headed into the kitchen for a snack. Forgetting the incident that transpired earlier that day, he opened the refrigerator, and reeled back in shock.<p>

On the top shelf lay a plate of specially prepared escargot and a note that read:

_l'Angleterre,_

_I find myself in quite a position. I can raise myself to the moral high ground by actually restocking your foodstuffs, or I can traverse the rocky roads of possibly inciting your hatred by enjoying what I have done today. I find this much more pleasing, _non_?_

_In the name of _amour_, _

_France_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Translations!~<strong>

**l'Angleterre- England (French)**

**Je suis désole- I am sorry (French)**

**amour- love (French)**


	7. I'm Awesome

**Day 7**

Prussia stared at the screen of the computer in awe. He was baffled to the highest degree by what was formed by the pixels of the surface. He quickly hit the replay button, almost abusing it. After staring dumbly at the flashing lights for many long minutes, he set out to memorize the lyrics to the certain song he was listening, and currently head- banging to.

A smirk overcame his lips; a maniacal laugh bubbled within his chest. It was like the person who wrote this song knew him personally.

* * *

><p>Prussia strutted through the arid hallways of Austria's place. <em>Honestly, does this place have to be this hot? <em>To try to take his mind off of his excessive sweating and to boost his ego, he began singing the song he had discovered earlier.

He had made it through about half of the song when he was tackled with a shout of "Language!" and a frying pan to the head. The great Prussia, once one of the strongest empires on the Earth, was felled in one strike.

"Fool. Everyone knows Hungarian people are more awesome than you Prussians. You aren't even a country anymore!"

If this were animated, Prussia's soul would have flown out of his mouth.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm Awesome by Spose. Go. Do the YouTube thing.<strong>


	8. Germany's Ahoge

"What are you doing?" Germany growled. He and Italy were currently in a quite compromising position. The German was sprawled out on the floor, looking as though there was something unpleasant under his nose, and the Italian sat on his chest carding through his golden locks with his fingers.

"Looking for your ahoge, ve!~" Italy chimed.

Germany's face was almost overcome by a scowl. "I don't have one, _idiot._"

"B-but me and Brother and-"

"Italy."

"-America and Canada-"

"_Italy_."

"-the kitty and Poland-"

_"Italy!"_ Germany bellowed. "I do not, and hopefully never will have, an ahoge!"

Italy looked like a kicked puppy. "I o-only w-w-wanted to give you pleasure…"

Germany facepalmed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Fluff...<strong>


	9. Just WHERE is Texas, Exactly?

**Day 9**

_Dear Journal, _

_I witnessed the most peculiar thing today. You'd think that all my time with Italy and Germany would prepare me for abnormal happenings, but sadly not. You see, just when I thought the insanity of the World Conference was over, America had to go and do something idiotic._

_**Flashback:**_

_**I was caught up in a civilized conversation with Poland (I do not know how this happened), when America came flying into the room, proclaiming that he knew where each of his states were represented on his body.**_

_** "There's Georgia, Mississippi, California," He said, pointing to his arm, shoulder, and shin, respectively. He continued on like this for some time, pointing to a body part after listing the appropriate state.**_

_** America smirked, obviously thinking that he saved the best for last. "And Texas…is my crotch!"**_

_** Somewhere in the background, Mexico choked. "Reminds ya of the time we spent fightin' over big Tex, don't it?**_

_**End Flashback**_

_I will not relate the rest of this story, for it was painful to see and even to relate. Anyone who might read this, I apologize for any brain overload._

_ Japan_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: It is so not Florida... I go there every summer.<strong>


	10. A Little Fanservice for Hungary

**Day 10**

Russia and Austria were currently having a perfectly normal conversation. Strange, right? Anyway, they were conversing on many subjects, namely the lack of _females._

_I wonder when Belarus will show up…_ Russia thought curiously. _Not that I want her to, of course, but her disappearance is strange._

Shaking off his confusion, Russia continued to talk.

* * *

><p><strong>Somewhere in the background…<strong>

Belarus turned to her comrade, Hungary, and grinned. "We have this, as the American's say, in the bag."

Hungary smirked in agreement. "On the count of three… one… two… _three!"_

The girls leapt out, Hungary slid around until she held Austria fast, and Belarus tackled Russia at just the right angle so he would crash into Austria. Hungary quickly released Austria so that Russia considerable weight would bowl them over. As they lay on top of each other, stunned, Belarus wasted no time in pushing Russia's head down.

The shocked countries' lips met in a kiss. Hungary whipped out the Hungarian Awesome Camera of Awesomeness© (blame Prussia) and snapped off at least enough pictures to fill half of the memory card.

Hungary and Belarus skipped away, arm in arm, as the two violated countries jumped apart, fire-engine red.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This pairing is so... <em>creepy.<em> I feel weird about pairing Russia with Austria, even in jest.**


	11. Child Support for China

**Day 11**

"England." China poked the afore-mentioned country in the shoulder.

"_What?_" England snarled.

"I was just wondering when I would receive the child support money you owe me. China's not a rich country, you know…"

In the background, America face-palmed.

"What child support money? I wouldn't reproduce with you even if I was paid."

The tense conversation was interrupted by a crash. The two swiveled around, gaping at the ridiculous sight.

The newcomer, a dark haired boy, stood then launched himself at England. "I'm hurt! You forgot me, Mommy!"

_Mommy… _England was horrified. He hissed a curse and threw off the invasive not-quite-a-country off. In despair, England withdrew to a corner of the room to plant mushrooms (or maybe plot China's destruction).

If one listened closely, a quiet "Why am I always an uke?" could be heard.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Silly England, because you went through all those wars and yet still blush when someone touches you.<strong>


	12. The Demon Cat

**Day 12**

This cat must be subdued! It was flying (quite literally) through the air, clawing grooves in the woodwork, and just generally causing chaos.

Now, normally, his cats didn't do much but eat, sleep, and sit on his head. But this cat was causing the mighty Greece to break his drowsy state and go running helter-skelter throughout the house! It must _die!_

He shook himself. _Now, now, Greece, you mustn't kill your pets… You must torture them wi-_

Obviously his line of thought wasn't the best. We have censored the rest for your convenience.

With a groan of effort, he picked up the chase once again. A left here, right there, _ooh… FOOD!_ Then another left, a right, _that's a cabinet_, up the stairs, down the hall, and he had it!

He grasped the squirming cat around the middle, dashing back the way he came (without running into the cabinet). He sat the cat down on the middle of the table, duct taping him in place. With a maniacal smirk, he retrieved the torture instruments he had kept from the old days. _This is going to be so much fun…_

A dull thunk resounded on the door. Greece went to answer it, only to be attacked from behind by a very pissed cat. Obviously we can conclude that duct tape doesn't stick well to fur…

The visitor, since the door wasn't going to open anytime soon, took it upon himself to open the door and creep timidly inside.

"Umm… Greece-san? What are you doing?" Japan asked in confusion.

"Just killing the cat." He said in his normal deadened tone.

Japan quickly grasped his arm and seized the cat. He would have to take Greece for a little stay in the pretty, white, padded rooms…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Just why, Japan, do you have a key to Greece's house?<strong>


	13. Ever Wondered Why Russia Says Kol?

**Day 13**

"Gather around, children!" America called out to the said children. The nations had, in remembrance of their various and strange alliances, chosen to host a Christmas party (which, to the nations in which Christmas is not a national holiday, seemed very stupid).

America had volunteered for one of the stations, as was needed for a nation of his stature. The station he chose? Story time.

So, here he sat with a book in his hand, looking around eagerly at the wondering faces of the children.

He cleared his throat and began to read. "T'was the night before Christmas and all through- You know what guys? How 'bout I just tell ya a story about ol' Ivan here!

Russia shot a dark look at America, which, as usual, he ignored. America smirked and began his _special_ story.

"Russia stood alone outside of his house. He, personally, had no idea of what possessed him to go outside; he only knew that it was freakin' cold!

"He, in a moment of stupidity (don' worry kids, he does that a lot), had forgotten the scarf that his sister had given him. And, one could guess from his reaction to the weather without it, he was sorely missing the warmth it radiated.

"Keep in mind that this is years before the machines; this was so long ago that the standard of intelligence was this: Ooh, look…I can take a piece of wood and stick something metal on the end of it to kill stuff!"

A small girl chose this moment to ask a question. "How is that possible? He can't be _that_ old."

America shot Russia a shifty glance.

"Ahem." America coughed explosively. "Moving on.

"Russia, in his distress, had begun to make strange little noises; they sounded something like 'cold, cold, cold'… Which was understandable since it was like twenty freakin' degrees outside!"

One of the kids interrupted. "Hey, mister? Why was it twenty degrees? That's warm."

America was confused. "Twenty degrees. Fahrenheit."

"Alfred, they use Celsius." Russia sneered.

America blushed. Russia chose that moment to clarify. "It's about six below in Celsius."

A large "Oh…" could be heard throughout the room. America, trying to save face, finished.

"Not long after that, his sister Katyusha came outside looking for him. She found him there, making those noises, and flipped!" America crowed jubilantly.

"She was so scared of the noises he made she ran off! So Ivan decided that if those noises could scare his sister so badly, then why couldn't they scare the bad guys? Now he makes the 'cold, cold, cold' sound every time he wants to be scary."

Russia slowly tapped America on the shoulder. "Comrade, we should step outside for a talk, da?"

America, knowing what was to come, shot out the door like a rocket. Russia slowly followed after, smirking all the way.

If those kids had been wondering about what the actual 'kol' sounded like, their curiosity was sated quickly.

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><p><strong>AN: Reviews are the only way for you to tell me how I'm doing, if you hate me, or what character to write next! Don't be lurkers!<strong>


	14. Denmark's Happy Juice

**Day 14- Meanwhile, with the Nordics...**

"T'no? 're ya 'lright?" Sweden's head snapped up at the rather gargantuan crash caused by his small companion.

The afore-mentioned small one chuckled sheepishly. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just can't seem to keep my balance today."

Sweden's eyebrow should have died of asphyxiation, what with the air being so thin at that height. "I see. An' just _why_ is y'r b'lance so bad?"

"…The ladder?"

Sweden's deadpan expression was enough to let him know that this wasn't exactly the answer he wanted.

Finland giggled happily. "…Well, it might be that funny-smelling stuff that Denmark gave me earlier. He said it would "_make me into a man" _and _"stop me from being such a poofer"_."

The Swede gave a barely discernible groan as he watched a flaming blush take over the obviously-tipsy Finn's face. Tino fumbled with the ladder for a few seconds, trying to make sense of the contraption, before finally throwing in the towel. He stood, inhaled with all his might, and then proceeded to walk straight off into thin air.

However, these are countries we are talking about, not superheroes.

With an "oof", the Finn fell into Berwald's arms. "You know… this is kinda romantic." He slurred, obviously noting the position which they were in. Their noses almost touched, Berwald's eyes obscured by his glasses.

With a sigh not unlike his earlier inhalation (except the opposite way, of course), Tino raised his head to meet Berwald's, as if to kiss...

And then promptly passed out.

The Swede chuckled. "S'lly Finn."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sufin. Fluff?<strong>


	15. The Queen of Denmark

**Day 15**

"Why are you so crazy?" Norway asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Denmark's head raised, chin cocked imperiously, accentuating the holier-than-thou expression he wore so often. "I'm not crazy. It's not my fault that the voices refuse to shut up."

Norway scoffed. "If I believed that you heard voices, you would have been in an institution years ago."

Denmark giggled. "Aw, Norge, I can tell that you love me! It's just written all across your face!" He swung his long legs over the arm of the chair he was sitting on (the Throne of Danmark), shifting to face the other Nordic in his matching armchair.

He studied the other's face for a few long moments. "You know, everyone has to bow to the king. Even you."

Norway spluttered, missing the quick transition from the topic of the Dane's sanity to his majesty.

"You are not my king!" He snarled, teeth snapping; he turned away, huffing.

"Never said I was, but it's nice to see that you think of me as such." Denmark snickered uncontrollably. "But if you're my queen, you won't have to defer to me. It doesn't work that way in Denmark."

Norway choked, grimacing at the image that his words conjured. He shook his head violently, so violently that his hair clip flew away from his head at unchartable speeds (so fast that Norway couldn't catch). Denmark, being the self-proclaimed third awesome country in the world, caught the clip with unerring precision. Only stopping his fluid motion to wink, he tossed the clip out of the nearest window, shattering glass and sending the blue cross to Never Never Land.

"Go fetch, Queen!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Gotta love the Nordics.<strong>


	16. England Does Funny Things When Drunk

Today was just a normal day: England had gotten drunk and decided to revisit his pirating days, Greece had fallen asleep, and Italy sat in the corner singing about pasta. Overall, a very normal Conference.

But something seemed wrong. There was no one dominating the room; it was too quiet, too—that's it! America wasn't there!

France smirked, reveling in the newfound serenity at the Conference. It wasn't very often that he got the peace and quiet he so deserved, so he chose to kick back, relax, and just _sleep._

Not so fast, young one.

In truth, France was happy about America's absence for one reason: if America was nowhere to be found, England was sure to be well and drunk of off his ass. Now was his time to strike.

The Frenchman sauntered over to the Western European stretch of tables (he had left his original space for the much more comfortable lap of another nation—blonde, he thought), winking at the said blonde as he passed. Finally, after sending a burning stare to about half of the room's occupants, he reached his seat; he lowered himself into position with a kind of careless elegance.

And now the conquests shall begin.

"_Salut,_ England," he drawled, "would you care to spend some time with me later? We could visit one of my finest restaurants—after all; this is my country, _non?"_

"I don' believe fer one sec—" he hiccupped "—'nd that ya don' wanna do anythin' else." His speech was heavily slurred, the scent of hard liquor surrounding him in a stale cloud.

France grimaced, but soon regained his composure; the ends justify the means, surely. "Well, _chèr, _why wouldn't I? Your body is so—oh, I don't have the words," Here he leered, but quickly added under his breath, "in _anglais _at least. I fear that if I speak to you in French, your head would explode."

"Wha' did ya say?" England roared, swaying back and forth in his seat. "I will not go home wit' ya!"

Everyone swiveled in their chairs, craning their necks to better view the brewing stormcloud-like nation. There was silence; the air would have been dead if not for the drunken ramblings of the green-eyed country.

The seconds stretched past, turning into minutes, until the silence was shattered with a noise not unlike a gunshot.

America slammed the door open, shouting, "Hey guys! Sorry I'm late; there was a huge line at McDonalds! Man, Francy-pants, your McDonalds are so weird! But I brought food!"

France turned to shoot a fitting comeback right into the (impossibly late) American's face, but was thrown off track when the table flipped over.

Yes, England threw the table.

As the Frenchman's head turned to stare incredulously at his northern neighbor, a very _hard_ fist came into sudden contact with his mouth.

And America laughed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Not too impossibly late, I hope?<strong>

**Translations:**

**_Salut- Hello, very informal (French)_**

**_chèr- dear, masculine (French)_**


End file.
